Nighttime
Rambling. My Confession
Bill Walker Jan 30 #71748
Please
bear with me. I'm on prednisone for 10 days
and am awake all night long.
So, it's pretty amazing what memories float
through your mind when you have all night in a dark room and aren't sleepy.
Last night’s subject was about when I entered
the Army. I took an eight-hour bus ride
from Memphis down to Fort Polk, LA in January of 69.
I only had about $20, figuring I wouldn't need
any more because I wouldn't be buying food or anything else, and that I would
receive pay in a few weeks. And, I had a
few packs of cigarettes, so I was good.
But an old man and his disabled grandson were
in the seat behind me, and they had no money for food or drinks when we would
stop at a bus depot on the way. (I don't
know where they were headed, but it was to some medical facility in Louisiana
or Texas). They couldn't even buy a
soda. So, I gave them what I had and rode the rest of the way broke. Not a big deal. They needed it and I didn't.
So, when I got to Ft. Polk, the first thing
they did was give me a haircut. But, I
didn’t have any money to pay the barber who sheared me. I had to borrow like
$1.50 from another guy who was also waiting for his class to form. I promised to pay him $5.00 as soon as we got
paid.
When our class was formed up a couple of days
later, we met this stocky little red-faced drill sergeant whom I'll call Sarge,
who tried his best to create fear in every recruit (If there had been three of
them and wearing overalls, you would swear he was one of the three Pigs). I
know it is part of the job to create an atmosphere if uncertainty in boot camp,
but it still pissed me off. (I think I
was predestined to be a Warrant....slightly rebellious, and mildly deranged,
which sometime may have come in handy during combat).
Most were draftees, with a number of us RAs who
enlisted to get a shot at flight school.
Today we would call it an inclusive group made up of every race,
religion, and background; some with no education and some with post grad
degrees, and every level and temperament.
Like everyone else's class, it was a real mixing bowl of folks.
The first night when we made our bunks and
stowed our gear the Sarge came storming in and ordered everyone to put his
wallet on his bunk and to form up outside so that he could check for
“contraband”.
Of course, he went back through both floors to
make sure no one was “hiding”.
Then he came back out and ordered us to return
to our bunks and to turn out the light immediately because we were going to be
put through hell the next day. It sure
as hell sounded fishy. But we all
complied. What the heck. I had no money
in mine. On both floors, we probably had
about 40 guys in our barrack.
The next day when guys complained that they
were missing money, Sarge raised hell with us and warned that there had to be a
thief among us. Hmmm.
He was a mean bully, especially toward a couple
of the guys who had trouble keeping up, and who lacked the coordination
necessary to speed through some of the drills.
They just lacked the tools needed to accomplish some of the things we
were required to learn, and he really picked on them. He once even suggested that a blanket party
might help them improve, even though there were not hygiene problems.
Training was pretty uneventful as we did the
low crawl, obstacle courses, firing range training, etc.
And eventually, we went to the range for night
fire training. You probably recall that
for this training, we were each issued a Daisy Air rifle and practiced hitting
an aluminum disc that would be tossed up in front of us. Eventually, we would
do this after dark to learn how to use our night vision.
While it was still light, Sarge was strutting
around in front of our firing line and harassing us.
He was wearing khakis which were too small for
him. He dropped a few of the discs
behind him, turned around and bent from his waist to pick them up.
I think this is what Redskin 1 would call a
target rich opportunity.
So, for the first time in my life…., I shot a
man…in his fat ass cheek…, with my BB gun. It hit him squarely on that cheek
where the fabric of his pants was pulled tight to his skin. The next few seconds were actually pretty
tense.
The guys on either side of me sort of gave
themselves a little distance from the shooter, if you know what I mean.
As a group, there was a collective gasp as Sarge
practically leapt to an exaggerated position of attention while pirouetting and
holding his ass cheek. I don’t think I
ever saw a face that purple with rage.
Puce? Is that a color?
Then, while he was bellowing at us and
demanding to know who shot him, I could see my comrades’ shoulders shaking as
they tried not to let him see them laughing.
We had to do about 300 pushups, but no one gave
me up, thank God.
It kind of built a little Esprit de Corps among
us. That hadn't been my intention. I just wanted to shoot that son-of-a-
bitch.
Afterward, guys I didn't even know would look
at me and laugh and shake their head.
I don't know if Sarge ever knew it was me, but
he did make sure I had a tough time running our pugil stick training, when he
put two guys on me. I did OK against
one, but not two. Not damage though, and
I'd never have let that guy know that I cared how many he piled on.
I did hear later on that he was court martialed
for stealing from the recruits under his leadership. I hope he rotted in jail.
Sorry for the rambling.
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Barry Beard Jan 30 #71751
Great story!
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Bill Walker Jan 30 #71752
Thanks Barry.
Every time I’m told I’m a pain in the ass (for
some reason I hear that a lot), I think. “You have no idea how literal that can
be.”
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James Ballard Jan 30 #71753
Sounds just like a SSG Ford at Ft. Bliss, a
Vietnam returnee who wanted to be a Drill SGT.
Go out and get drunk most nights, come back at 3:00 am and put us all
through the low crawl pits which were shiny rock from all the low crawling
while soaking everyone with a water hose.
Borrowed all the money he could from trainees never to be paid
back. I heard they caught the sob in the
next cycle.
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Bill Griffith Jan 30 #71754
Great story, Bill.
Ft Knox, '67 - Somehow those of us crewing
OH-6s acquired about six of those b-b guns. We weren’t supposed to keep them in
our possession. At the time they were intended to train us in quick kill, “fire
from the hip."
The few of us that had them would dress out in
field jackets, helmet liners, and goggles and have weekend skirmishes in and
around the barracks. Within about a month half the windows in our barracks had
bb holes in them, and a number of birds littered the area. Then one morning the
1st Sgt and a couple of others ransacked and confiscated the bb guns. I think
if was more for our own safety than anything because nothing more was ever said
or done to us.
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Gary Bowman Jan 30 #71755
Bill G, you never revealed the origin of
"head". Spill.
Gary B
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Barry Beard Jan 30 #71757
In OCS I was “Student Class President”, which
meant I was the beggar for privileges, requiring a lot of front lean and rest
and push-ups. A couple of Tacs were over served and
came in to our area raising hell. They routed me out
and of course had me assume the front lean and rest position. They said
“candidate Beard you stink! Candidate Beard do you know why you stink?” “Sir Candidate Beard, no sir.” “Candidate Beard you stink because you have
fat cheeks!” Pretty lame if that was the
best they could come up with.
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Don Pipes10:52am #71833
Barry... Which cheeks were they talking about! 😉
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